


Knowing Nothing

by dorcas_gustine



Category: House M.D.
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-11
Updated: 2009-03-11
Packaged: 2017-10-02 06:21:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dorcas_gustine/pseuds/dorcas_gustine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>After that it’s a long list and when he looks again at the table, he decides to change the style of the titles, because the diagnosis is not so light blue and bold anymore.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Knowing Nothing

**Author's Note:**

> This is an old one, it takes place after _House vs. God_.  
> Beta'ed by runriggers on lj.

 

House wears an evil grin on his lips that would reduce the bravest men in the world to trembling, weeping shells. He’s playing with his new PSP and he’s playing the best game in the world, Grand Theft Auto. The evil grin spreads once more.

_Run, run all you want, pathetic little sucker, I’ll catch you!_

A passer-by gets mauled by his chain saw and the evil grin turns in a low maniacal laugh.

Then he hears two of the Onocology nurses say the word Wilson since Wilson is his interest, his _bestest_ friend – but mostly he’s _his_, even if he doesn’t really know yet –he automatically tunes in on their conversation, and frowns.

His game character gets killed by a Uzi-wielding grandma.

The words ‘relationship’ and ‘patient’ enters the nurses' conversation, and not in a good way – not that there’s actually a good way those two words can go together. He frowns some more. He knew that sooner or later Wilson was going to get in trouble with the whole Cancer Girl Affair.

  


  
*

First rule of every good spy was gather intel. In the hospital the best way to gather intel about Wilson is… House. House stops and frowns, getting weird looks from the man who almost runs into his back. He’d never give anything away about Wilson – apart from those embarrassing and only _occasionally_ not true bits – and anyway, he needs intel on something he _doesn’t_ know. For example _who_ is leaking information about Wilson and Cancer Girl’s tearjerker romance for teenagers and menopausal women. After he’s found this person, he'd pound the fear of God – or at least of Gregory House – into them with his cane.

He can go to Jenny. Jenny likes him – or at least she _tolerates_ him for small periods of time. Very small. Like thirty seconds.

“Jenny!” he exclaims, grabbing her by an arm and pushing her into an empty exam room.

Jenny gasps, glares at him, smoothes her clothes and glares at him again.

Fifteen seconds wasted.

“Wilson.” He says.

“I’m Nurse Cooper, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“Well, he told me he was getting a sex change operation, so I just assumed.” Twenty seconds. Shit. “Latest rumors on him. Chop, chop.”

“Terry in Oncology says he got fed up with you, dumped you and moved out.”

“Already knew that. Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Paula in Oncology says absolutely not. He cheated on you and you kicked him out.”

“I didn’t kick him out.” He says with an annoyed voice.

“But he cheated on you?” she asks, with an almost hopeful tone.

He knows for a fact that the bets on the nature of their relationship are now thoroughly organized and managed by a specially constituted commission presided in turns by different people in the hospital. He believes this week it’s Cuddy’s turn.

“You have to tell me this.”

“Well… There’s this rumor about he and a patient of his.” She says, then adds, “but still, there’s another about you being a vampire and turning Wilson.”

“I’m not a vampire, it’s daylight outside.”

“It’s just a rumor.”

House gives her he skeptical look and she has the grace to lower her eyes.

Nothing is _just_ a rumor.

“Who started it?”

“Which one? The one about the patient of the vampire one?”

“Well, actually both of them.”

“Jackson started the one about the vampire.”

Figures, bite a guy _once_ for no apparent reason and you’re marked for life.

He basks briefly in the memory of Jackson’s disbelieving and horrified look and of Wilson’s also disbelieving, but amused look.

“And the other one?” he goes back to business.

“Well, I was told by Brenda that she was told by Rick, who was told by Anne in Oncology that she’s heard from a patient that they’d kissed.”

Kissed. In the hospital.

_Wilson, Wilson_, House mentally chides, _one would think that you’d have learned by now._

“He kissed Cancer Girl in the hospital?”

“So you already _knew_!” Jenny _squeaks_, for some reason.

_Very annoying_, House concludes.

“Of course I knew. Wilson can’t hide anything from me.”

She nods sagely and then looks at him with a very _strange_ look.

“What?” he barks.

“Nothing.” She says, then pats him on the shoulder and goes back to work.

He’s feeling uneasy and when he figures out what look she’s given him, he becomes utterly annoyed. He despises pity with a force that was almost – _almost_ – equaled only by Vogler. And pop music. But mostly Vogler.

  


  
*

At lunch, as he’s calmly eating Wilson’s chips, he can feel the air in the cafeteria charged with tension. He looks up casually and notices that at least four people are resolutely not-watching their way. Wilson fidgets in his seat but doesn’t look up. “They are still looking at us?” he asks.

“Yep.” he answers cheerfully “What have you done, Wilson?”

“Me? Shouldn’t that be my line?”

“Well, they’re mostly watching you.”

“That’s not true.”

“Sure it is.”

“Jackson’s looking at you.”

“That’s because he’s trying to figure how I can survive in the daylight.” House turns and bares his teeth at Jackson who reddens and hastily lowers his face.

“What?” Wilson asks, forgetting for a moment who he’s speaking with “No, never mind. I don’t want to know.”

House reaches for one more chip but finds nothing. “Hey, you’re out of chips.”

“I wonder why.” Wilson says, with a glare “Just bought a packet.”

“Go buy another.”

“Go yourself.”

“Burdening the cripple, aren’t we?”

“A pack of chips is hardly a burden.”

“But I want _your_ chips, Wilson!” House whines.

“Oh, for God’s sake, House!” Wilson exclaims, louder than usual, then throws some money on the table “Here, go buy some chips.” Inexplicably, Wilson gets up and walks away, leaving a momentarily stunned House alone at the table.

“Wilson!” he calls, very un-pathetically. “Hey!”

House gets up and follows him.

He can hear the cafeteria practically buzzing with whispers and voices. Wilson, who always makes sure he’s walking at House’s speed to allow him to keep up – something House is grateful for, albeit very secretly – is speeding towards the lifts with no hope for House of catching him. House stops and watches as the lift doors close and Wilson disappears from his sight. Right now, House is very pissed.

  


  
*

Predictably , the first to pay for his sour mood is Cameron. She comes up to him as he is insulting various people on a random Internet Forum. She barely opens her mouthwhen House starts.

“I’m sure you’re going to tell me about this patient you think is interesting but really has some kind of STD, because his wife cheated on him while he was busy dying of cancer in some hospital. But what do we know? It’s so _heartbreaking_ and you – romantic you – want to fix him and maybe marry him, while you’re at it. If he survives to see the divorce, of course.” he says this in one breath, without looking up from the screen and actually keeps on writing. He pauses a moment and – impressed – congratulates himself for his skills at multitasking.

Cameron snaps her mouth shut and gets out of his office.

  


  
*

Of course, the second one is Chase, who probably wants to avenge his comrade.

_They’re getting quite predictable_, House thinks.

He’s been kicked out of the forum and he’s now on some BabyJesusIsUrFriend LiveJournal, proclaiming that the Apocalypse is coming and writing three pages long of points that prove his theory.

“You shouldn’t treat Cameron like that,” says Chase.

“You’re stupid.” says House solemnly – probably influenced by his mystical vein, then he goes back to his Apocalypse.

Chase leaves.

  


  
*

From his position at the desk, he can see as two of his minions try to convince the third – the smart one, but he’ll never admit this – to go and talk with him. Foreman doesn’t disappoint him when he looks at them, expressionlessly, then nonchalantly goes back to his medical journal. Now that he’s finished the people to terrorize House is just bored. He promptly glares at the wall dividing his and Wilson’s offices.

He wants to go and annoy Wilson, but he’s still pissed at him for the way he left in the cafeteria.

_Annoying it is, then_.

Everyone knows he can’t stay pissed at Wilson for long, anyway.

  


  
*

He knocks on Wilson’s door, because this way he’ll never figure it out it’s him, and also just to screw a little with his mind, of course.

“Come in.” Wilson’s voice says.

He enters, carefully closing the door behind him.

“House? You knocked.” Wilson says, sounding a little surprised, then he narrows his eyes and asks, suspiciously “Why?”

“Why, Wilson. My mother taught me well.”

“I’m sure. I’ve met your mother.” Wilson says “But I also met _you_. You don’t knock.”

“I knew I shouldn’t have wasted my yearly good action on you.”

“Please, House. Your yearly good actions became every-five-years good actions back in ’97.”

“Well, I did no good action in 2002, so I had this laying about.”

“House.”

“Wilson.”

Wilson lets out an exasperated sigh. “_Greg_.”

Well, two can play that game. “Ja-a-mes.” House singsongs.

“Please, just say what you want to say and be gone, I have a lot to do.”

“I’m here to enjoy one of our scintillating conversations.”

Wilson sighs and drops his head on his folded arms. There’s a mumble sounding very much like ‘give me strength’ from Wilson’s direction, but House isn’t quite sure. He pokes him with his cane, “Are you still alive?”

Wilson slowly raises his head and looks at him, “Seriously, what do you want, House? I hope it’s something worthy of my time, because I really have no-“

There’s a knock on the door and House contemplates telling Wilson what he _really_ wants. The moment passes and Jenny – the nurse who _likes_ him – enters giving them looks. Wilson doesn’t notice and smiles at Jenny, House thinks it’s time to get his attention again.

“I’m bored.” House whines “Entertain me, Wilson.”

For a moment there’s an eerie silence. House looks at Wilson, expectantly. Wilson looks at House, disbelievingly. Jenny looks at both of them, alternatively.

Then Wilson _snaps_ – but quietly, because it's still Wilson.

“I’m going to look at this chart, House, and when I look up again I want you to be gone, because I can’t possibly put up with you, right now.”

The words are said very calmly, but with intent, and to House’s ears Wilson might as well been yelling. He blinks, stunned, and makes his retreat as hastily as he can.

  


  
*

Some time later he finds himself seated in front of his computer and notices that he’s been tapping the backspace key for a good two minutes, therefore erasing half of his second essay on the Apocalypse.

He opens a new document and spends a good ten minutes figuring out how to make a two-columned table. When he’s done he’s got his own white board on the computer.

_symptoms_ he writes in red-blood, italics characters on the left and **DIAGNOSIS** in light blue, bold characters.

He writes ‘tense’ on the symptoms column, then adds ‘ignores me’ and ‘deserts me in the cafeteria’. He frowns and decides to put in ‘refuses to buy me chips’, too.

That and the ‘annoyed with me’ that he’s just written get erased a moment later. The former because he thinks it’s too whiny even for him and the second because, who isn’t?

He pauses again and puts back ‘refuses to buy me chips’, because it’s his damn Word White Board and he gets to decide how much whiny is too much.

After that it’s a long list and when he looks again at the table, he decides to change the style of the titles, because the diagnosis is not so light blue and bold anymore.

_ symptoms _

_ DIAGNOSIS _

  
tense  
ignores me  
deserts me in the cafeteria  
refuses to buy me chips  
lies to me  
refuses to move back in with me  
can’t possibly put up with me

  
Cancer Girl Affair (??????)  
divorce strain(????)  
PMS(???)  
Pregnant(???)  
no sex for a week

no more bestest friends forever(?)

House closes the document without saving it.

  


  
*

He calls Cameron and takes the chart she was angsting over, ignoring the ducklings’ disbelief. He takes a look and sends them to take tests, but he already knows the results, if not for the fact that he believes only in two constants: Everybody Lies and Murphy’s Law.

He should get T-shirts.

Tests done and he was right, _of course_.

“Pass it to Wilson, it’s cancer.”

They always see him when they don’t need him, but he doesn’t want to see to him when they actually need him.

Murphy’s Law.

“Her.” Cameron corrects, he ignores her.

“I’ll go call him.” Chase says, getting up.

“Are you deaf as well as stupid? I said _pass_ it-“

“Her.”

“-to Wilson, not go call him.”

“Are the two of you fighting?” Cameron asks.

“We’re getting a divorce. You’ll stay with me, since he cheated,” he says “But don’t worry, you’ll get a week-end once a month with mommy.”

They don’t look very impressed, he has to start keeping them on their toes again.

“I thought _you_ were the mom.” Chase says then stands up and goes to find Wilson.

_Damn_.

  


  
*

It’s 5 p.m. when they meet again.

“Chase passed me your patient.”

“Well, he’s stupid, but even he can’t certainly get lost going from my office to yours.”

There’s silence from Wilson and House can hear him as he crosses his arms. “House.” Wilson says, and House finally looks at him “Chase told me.”

House nods slowly, diverting his gaze again.

“Look, House, I’m sorry for what-“

“Are you breaking up with me?” he asks bluntly, turning back to Wilson.

“Excuse me?” Wilson chokes. “Since when were we together?”

“Since 2001, according to the rumors.” House helpfully tells him.

“Good to know.” Wilson nods sagely.

“Yeah, I think so, too. By the way, you forgot our anniversary, last week.”

“I’ll buy something fancy for you.”

“I’m sure you did that with all your ex-wives.”

There’s silence again as they stare at their shoes.

“Are we breaking up?” House asks once again.

“No, House. We’re- I’m just- I’ve got a lot of things to think about, right now.”

“So… You’re too busy for me.”

“It’s one way to put it.”

“So we’re taking a break?”

“I guess.”

“We’re not!” House exclaims, startling both Wilson and himself with his vehemence. He swallows and tries again, “We’re not. Taking a break means we’re breaking up.”

“I thought taking a break meant taking a break.”

“Haven’t you seen Friends? Ross and Rachel don’t ring a bell?”

Wilson blinks stupidly at him. “No.”

“You’re hopeless.” House informs him. “Ross and Rachel were The Couple on Friends! She even dressed as Leia for him. Then Rachel decided they needed a break…”

“Are you saying you want me to dress up as _Leia_?!”

“No!” then he thinks about it “Well…”

“House!”

“The point is they took a break and then Ross cheated on Rachel,” he tries to explain.

“I’m confused. Are you saying that if we take a break, you’re going to cheat on me?”

“No, it’s you that cheated on me, even before the break.”

“I thought I was Rachel.” Wilson smirks.

Wilson thinks he’s _joking_.

“Right. Look…It- It doesn’t matter.” he says and curses himself for the stuttering right there as he turns away.

“House!”

Now he can feel the alarm in Wilson’s voice as he follows him. He thinks of leaving him behind, as he did with him at lunch, but Wilson calls again and he stops.

“House.” Wilson looks at him straight in the eyes, serious “I was kidding.”

House nods, “The point is- Nothing good comes out of taking a break.”

“It might.” For a moment Wilson sounds so sure, but House thinks that with all of his ex-wives and girlfriends he has to know the real meaning of taking a break.

“Let’s just…try. Okay?” he asks, quietly.

“Okay.” says House, because they both know that he can’t refuse Wilson anything.

  


  
*

He barely touches the takeout. He plays the piano for about ten minutes, then goes to the TV. He stands up again and goes back to the piano.

It’s not like he and Wilson spend _all_ their time together, or call each other every five minutes. It’s just that – before all this – they could, _potentially_. Now he can’t, because they’re taking a break. He hurls his just-emptied glass at the wall and decides to go to bed.

He only manages to fall asleep at 3 in the morning.

The morning after he curses for a good five minutes when he steps bare-footed on the broken glass.

  
*

  
*

  
When he arrives at the hospital, the day after, he can feel something is not right. It’s nothing definite, but he can see some nurses, and occasionally doctors, look at him with that look and whisper among them. He glares at them for good measure, feeling particularly vicious today since he hasn’t slept enough and he's hurt his good foot. As he enters the conference room, he snarls at Chase – the only occupant – who wisely makes himself scarce.

Ten minutes later, he’s barely started drinking his coffee when Cameron silently hands him a chart.

He arches an eyebrow, “Why should I take it? When I touch it, it’ll stick to my finger I’m going to be damned for the eternity with a boring case that I didn’t want in the first place.”

“It’s interesting,” she says, quite unconvincingly.

“So you say,” House replies “Since when have I ever listened to what you say?”

He knocks the chart over with his cane and she looks at him, gaping. He snorts, leaves her at that and goes to his office.

  


  
*

It’s after an hour, an hour and a half that he _definitely_ knows something is not right. Every goddamn nurse that’s passed in front of his fishbowl office has sneaked a more or less inconspicuous glance at him. At first he’s thought they were ogling Cameron or, when she was absent, Chase. However he’s been alone for a while now, and too many inconspicuous glances have become not really inconspicuous at all. He decides to find Jenny. Unlike last time, she’s the one find him and, in a weird replay of their meeting, she takes him in a unused exam room.

House is still a bit stunned, when she drops her bomb. “You can talk to me if you want.”

He laughs.

She looks offended.

He wipes his eyes, “Thanks, I needed that.”

She glares at him and stays offended.

“So, what should we talk about and, more importantly, _why_?”

“I heard Wilson broke up with you.”

“Oh, please!” he says waving at her and opening the door to make his exit.

“I was there, yesterday, in his office, remember?”

House says nothing.

“You know- you’re an asshole, but you’re his friend.”

_You know nothing_, he wants to tell her.

“Maybe you should leave my relationship with Wilson to me and Wilson,” he says with his most menacing air and actually manages to scare her a little. But not enough if, as he’s going out, she says “He shouldn’t treat you like that.”

_You know nothing_, House wants to yell. _You know nothing, all of you._

Because Wilson is breaking up with him.

Because Wilson’s got only two things working and he’s taking a break from one of them.

Because House’s got only one thing working.

Because Wilson is in some kind of _really_ big trouble if he’s not talking about it with him.

  


  
*

House tries again with the Word White Board, but nothing is much different from last time, except maybe that the final diagnosis is now a symptom.

He looks up in time to see Chase hastily lowering his gaze. Cameron just keeps on looking at him, as if she wants to come over and talk.

He glares until she too lowers her gaze.

Throughout the whole thing Foreman just keeps on doing his crossword.

He goes back to his differential diagnosis.

He’s already talked to the ‘patient’ and getting near Jenny again is out of the question.

What to do, then?

The decision is taken out of his hands when a hand sneaks its way into his office door and waves a white kerchief.

Of course, his walls being glass, the whole surprise and suspense effect is nonexistent.

The owner of the kerchief seems oblivious of all this, however.

“Peace offering.” Wilson says, finally.

House glares at him. “You know that saying about not shooting the messenger?”

“Yep.” Wilson says, daring to come nearer.

“Well, here, under the Dictatorship of House, we don’t have that saying. We shoot anything that comes bearing charts, is stupid, has a moral code, wants to talk about my feelings – or feelings in general – annoys me or simply bores me.”

“I’m not any of those things.”

“I bet you want talk about my feelings. Or _yours_.”

“Please!” Wilson says. “I’m not Cameron.”

House frowns, “Then why are you here?”

“Your Excellence Dictator House, I come bearing food.” he says, exhibiting a white bag “And lollipops!” he adds, waving the two red lollipops in his right hand.

“You should have said that!” House stands up, rips the lollipops from his hand and limps back to his seat. He starts sucking on one.

“Are you limping?” Wilson asks, frowning.

“_Excuse_ me? Have you met me? I’m Greg House, asshole, Vicodin, _limp_, cane.”

“Don’t talk like that, you’re turning me on.”

House’s head snaps in his direction, “_What_?!”

Wilson waggles his eyebrows, then – in a subtle shift that only _he_ can manage – resumes his concerned air. “Your limp is different. Have you injured your left leg?”

Wilson doesn’t say his _good_ leg.

“Stepped on a broken glass,” he decides to go with the truth and not sarcasm, just to keep Wilson on his toes.

“Why?”

“Why what? Why I stepped on it? Because I didn’t see it.”

Okay, maybe truth _and_ sarcasm.

“Why was it broken?”

“Are you sure you’re not stupid, Wilson? Don’t think because you’ve been granted access, you’re safe. I still can shoot you and keep the food.” House says, grabbing his Reuben sandwich from the bag as if proving his point “It broke because it fell – damn you to hell, Newton.”

Wilson doesn’t seem convinced, but lets it go nevertheless.

“Are you here because the children called you?”

“I’m here to eat.”

Now it’s House who is not convinced.

“Well, they _were_ panicking, but mostly I’m here to eat. With you.” Wilson clarifies “Yesterday I didn’t get a chance to apologize.”

“Because if you don’t of course I’m going to cry my pwetty eyes out. What gave you that impression?”

“I didn’t explain- It’s not that I wanted to… ‘break up with you’, as you put it. It’s just that I needed some time to think, alone.”

Wilson thinking. Alone.

_Not_ good.

“And you finished with your… alone thinking?”

“Yes.”

“And do I need to know what you came up with?”

“You know,” Wilson starts. And stops. He scratches the back of head and tries again, “House…” And stops.

He opens his mouth a third time, but shuts it without saying anything.

House has to stop him before he does something really, really stupid that’s going to end with them talking about their feelings – no stupidity and talking about feelings under his Dictatorship, he’s been clear about that.

“Have you noticed the inconspicuous looks?” he asks, struck with sudden inspiration.

Wilson does a double take, then frowns and, when everything else fails, comes up with a “What?”

“People are looking strangely at me.” House explains patiently.

“House, people are always looking strangely at you, and I’m not talking about the cane or the limp.”

“Which turn you on, by the way.” House says, leering.

“Which, even if it was true – and it’s not, so stop that – has really nothing to do with this conversation.”

Wilson is not blushing or stuttering as he says that. Not even a little. House is disappointed.

“I mean strangely as in weirdly.”

“I know what strangely means, thank you. But if I ever need a thesaurus I’ll come to you from now on.”

“They look at me like- like that! Look!”

House points at a nurse who’s walking down the corridor. As predicted by House, she looks strangely at him and then, surprising them both, _glares_ at Wilson.

“That was even stranger.” House says, vaguely disturbed.

“She _glared_ at _me_.” Wilson says, disbelief painted all over his face “She glared. At me!”

“Welcome to my world.” House says, patting him on the shoulder.

  


  
*

After Wilson leaves, Cameron tries again with the chart, evidently she didn’t get the memo on his Dictatorship. Ten minutes after she’s fled from his office he sticks a freshly printed paper sheet on his door, stating the rules and punishments of his Dictatorship.

“There’s a spelling error,” Foreman says, a few minutes later.

_Damn Word_.

“Are you sure you should be giving proper English lessons, _gangsta_?”

Foreman frowns, opens his mouth to say something but then decides against it.

“Mommy and Daddy made up?” comes Chase’s voice.

“Apparently.” Foreman says, shrugging.

House thinks about hiding chain saw expenses in his office budget.

Evidently, it shows on his face because suddenly Chase and Foreman have somewhere they _absolutely_ need to be. As he’s going back to his office, he notices the chart Cameron left. It’s partially opened. He swears she’s going to pay for that.

  


  
*

“I looked all over for you, House.” Cuddy says, “And you are in _my_ office.”

“Yep.” House says “You’d have never searched for me, here. Clever, ain’t I?”

“Clinic duty, House.”

“Can’t, I’ve got a case.”

He waves the chart he’s been reading.

“You- You’ve got a case? And no one asked you to take it?” Cuddy narrows her eyes “It’s not another schizoid patient with a cold, isn’t it?”

“She wasn’t schizoid, as you remember and it’s not an _it_, it’s a _she_.”

She fixes him with unimpressed eyes.

“Cameron left it on a chair,” he admits.

“So she was the one who convinced you to take _it_.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” House replied “I could see the word ‘bipolar’ sticking out.”

“Ah, so it is a mental patient.” Cuddy says, with a knowing smirk “Well, you've still got clinic duty.”

“But, I’ve got a _patient_!”

“As you’re so fond of saying, your minions can handle it.”

“They can handle clinic duty, as well.”

“But then you would be stranded with _boring_ lab tests.”

Is it him or lately have people united against him?

  


  
*

“Nice headphones.”

“I know. Uhm…”

“Yeah?”

“My ears hurt.”

“Yeah, so?”

“You’re the doctor, give me something for it.”

“Any other symptoms?”

“What?”

“Are you an idiot?”

“What? Speak louder, can’t hear.”

“YOU LISTEN TO MUSIC?”

“YES!”

“WHAT KIND OF MUSIC DO YOU LISTEN TO?”

“TECHNO. WHY? AND WHY ARE YOU YELLING LIKE THIS?”

“Me? You started it.”

“No, you did!”

“Did too.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

“Did not.”

“Did not.”

“Did too- Agh! Damn it! What kind of doctor are you?”

“I normally hack up corpses, but they sent me here.”

“Cool! Like that CSI dude! You even have a cane!”

“Unimpressionable people are the worst kind.”

“What?”

“You’re unimaginative and boring.”

“So, what do I have? You got meds for me?”

“The diagnosis is bad taste in music and stupidity, but sadly they still haven’t made drugs for those. But you can start by lowering the volume on that iPod. You’re losing your hearing.”

“What?”

“What?”

“What?”

“What what?”

“What what?”

“You started it.”

“No you did.”

“No, _you_ did.”

“What?”

“It’s going to be a long day.”

“What?”

  


  
*

“Do you have a pill against bad manners?”

“_Excuse_ me?”

“It’s for my neighbor – the hussy.”

“The _hussy_? How old are you, grandma?”

“You should take those pills, too.”

“Would interfere with my Vicodin and my rep.”

“She lives with a man and they’re not _married_!”

“The scandal!”

“That’s what I told her! But she’s _divorced_! Like my old friend Agatha, but she wasn’t a hussy. Her husband was a very bad man, he danced with another woman! A _younger_ woman!”

“And Agatha divorced him.”

“Of course she did! My neighbor is divorced, too! But she’s a-“

“Hussy and lives with a man without being married?”

“You know her?”

  


  
*

“So, what’s your problem?”

“What’s _yours_?”

“Aren’t you going to ask about my symptoms?”

“Symptoms of what?”

“How should I know? You’re the one with the medical degree. You should ask about symptoms.”

“Why, you got any?”

  


  
*

House is ready to slam his head against the wall, repeatedly.

How _stupid_ can you get? Maybe they should check the vents for some kind of strange stupidity gas, like something from an old ‘60s TV series.

His pager beeps.

It’s Wilson and House is going to buy him a huge dinner – like maybe a sandwich in that diner they’ve discovered recently – if he’s going to save him from the stupidity gas.

When he gets into the exam room it’s empty, except for Wilson.

“You called me on a _fake_ consult?!” he exclaims with a scandalized tone, then he stretches his arms towards him as if wanting to give him a big hug. “Wilson! I’m so _proud_ of you!”

“Shut up! It’s all your fault!”

“I’m sure it is, as it’s always my fault.” House agrees. “But if you’d tell me for which of all my misdeeds I should be taking credit-“

“You told them something!”

“I told who what?” House says, exasperated. “Wilson, the stupidity gas has reached you, too?”

“The what?” Wilson says, blindsided for a second, then shakes his head. “No. No you are not going to change the subject!”

“What’s the subject here?”

“You told the nurses something about _me_!”

“Of course I did! I tell them things about you all the time! Which one have you heard? The one about the Turkish bath? The one where I explained the reason you like ties so mu-“

“Those are not true!”

“Of course they’re not! Where would be the fun in that?”

“I’m not talking about something I’ve heard.”

“Then what?”

“It’s just- They’re acting mostly unnerving and vaguely threatening towards me. Which is very disturbing. Which is – I’m sure – your fault.”

House smirks, knowingly scratching his stubble, “Ah, the Wilson Golden Age has come to an end, I see.”

“House!” Wilson exclaims “What. Have. You. Done?”

“Me?” he asks, innocently. “Nothing!”

“House, I swear-“ starts Wilson with a frustrated sigh, but stops. Then his shoulders seem to sag under a weight they can barely sustain. “House, right now- Right now, I’ve really haven’t got time to play your games-"

“That’s what you said yesterday, too!” and that comes out a little whinier than he’s intended “And yet, you come at lunch time waving your white flag and you bring food and lollipops and you joke and- and so I think everything’s back to normal, but no!” The silence lasts twenty seconds – he counts them – and then he breaks it again “What is it Wilson? You’ve been like this for the past few days. What is it? Ex-wifey bothering you over the china? Someone suing you? The Apocalypse’s coming and you’ve just realized you Jews were wrong all along?”

“I thought you didn’t want to talk about feelings.” Wilson says.

“And I thought you knew I can actually be serious for limited time periods. Evidently I was wrong.”

And for the first time since this whole Big Not-Break Up Thing started, House is the one who has the last word and who leaves the field as the winner.

Funny how it doesn’t really much to cheer him up.

  


  
*

Something taps against the balcony door.

It taps again after a few seconds and he turns around.

Wilson is on his side of the balcony, currently throwing _stones_ at _his_ balcony door.

So maybe they’re not really breaking up at all.

He opens the door and reaches Wilson, the partition the only thing between them, now. “Throwing stones at my window, Wilson?” he asks with a smirk “What’s next? Kissing on the porch before daddy comes outside?”

“You started first.”

“You always tell me I don’t really act my age.”

There’s a smile tugging at Wilson’s lips and House can feel his day finally taking a turn for the better. “House, there’s no easy way to say this-"

Or not.

“Shut up.” House interrupts him “Shut up. Shut up.”

“House…”

“I know what you’re going to say.”

“You do.”

“Yes. You’re going to say that we really are breaking up because you met a blonde half your age and you’re moving to Acapulco. You’re going to take the porn collection and you’re going to leave me all alone to look after our children. See? I told you that taking a break wasn’t good. I knew it.”

“I’m resigning.” Wilson says.

“Or maybe I didn’t.” House frowns, then looks at Wilson “You’re resigning.”

“Yes. I haven’t handed Cuddy the letter yet, because I wanted to tell you first. But…”

“Okay,” House nods sensibly. “Okay. Why in the hell are you resigning? Your cancer patients stopped saying ‘thank you’ and you don’t find your job satisfying anymore?”

“House, I’m serious.”

“Well, I am too!” he exclaims “First you ignore me, then you refuse to buy me chips, then-“

“Refuse to buy _what_?!”

“Shut up! Then you lie to me and you break up with me – oh, sorry – take a _fucking_ break from us, then you send mixed signals and then you say you’re resigning from your job, one of the only two things – and I quote – that work for you.” he pauses to see if he’s still got Wilson’s attention. He has. “What the fuck Wilson? Have you gone insane?”

“I should ask you the same thing! What’s all this about me buying chips? And I knew I had to stop you when you started with all that crap about breaking up-“

“Well, the rumors-“

Wilson winces and diverts his gaze.

And just like that he’s got it, and everything clicks into place.

The tension.

The ignoring.

The brooding.

The breaking up.

The _nurses_.

Even the _chips_.

“I have to go.” House says.

“What the- House I was just-“

“It’s a case! I have to go before it’s too late!”

“House, you-“

But his balcony door closes, effectively shutting Wilson off.

Wilson is not as interested in gossips and rumors as he is, but he must have heard about it. If House hadn’t been losing time angsting over his and Wilson’s Big Not-Break Up Thing he could’ve easily prevented all of this.

“You!” he orders Foreman, tossing him the key he’s just fished from one of his desk drawers.

“What’s this?” Foreman asks.

“Wilson’s office key.” he explains “I want you to lock him in.”

“How come you have- You want me to _what_?!”

“Lock him in and make sure he doesn’t come out until I tell you.” He turns to Cameron “You lock my balcony door.”

“Why should I lock Doctor Wilson in his office? If it’s about some stupid revenge scheme for this fight you’re having we want no part in it.”

House stops just on the door of the conference room for a moment.

Then he turns around and faces his ducklings. “I’m trying to save his fucking career,” he grinds out “And you’ve got about one minute before he stops brooding over his resignation letter and actually gives it to Cuddy, so you’d better hurry, Foreman, or I’ll be very, _very_ angry.”

He knows Foreman is not stupid.

  


  
*

Ah, room 104. Here is it.

He enters and bluntly asks the woman on the bed, “You like Doctor Wilson?”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“Y-Yeah, I suppose. He’s very kind and-“

“Yeah, yeah, you all thank him for telling you you’re dying.”

Her face scrunches up in a disgusted expression, “Who are you?”

“Your conscience. You told a nurse that you saw Wilson kissing a patient?”

“About Wilson and Grace? No!” she exclaims. “I only told a friend of mine who came to visit me, because-“

“Any nurses in the room when you said that?”

She frowns, thinking. “Could have been. I don’t know. Why?”

“You could have cost Wilson his job. Congratulations.”

“W-What? Because he and Grace are together?”

“_Were_.” House corrects, not without some satisfaction.

“She discharged herself, she’s not a patient anymore!”

“But she was when they started.”

He lets this sink.

“He might- _lose_ his job?”

“Probably.”

“How- There must be something I can do to-“

“You? You did enough.” House hisses and she lowers her head in defeat. “Me, on the contrary…”

“What?”

“If anyone asks, an asshole with a cane and a limp asked you to spread the rumor.”

“W-What?”

“You heard me.”

As he limps away he can hear her answer, “And if they ask me why I agreed?”

“I’m sure you can come up with something.”

He has places to go, people to piss off.

  


  
*

Next, he barges in Cuddy’s office without preambles.

“You could try knocking.” she says, matter-of-factly, not looking up from the papers she’s working on. “Ever heard of it? You lightly hit the door twice with your knuckles and then you wait for the person inside to say ‘come in’.”

“I’ve already spent my yearly good action with Wilson.”

Cuddy sighs, “What do you want?”

“Wilson has a resignation letter.”

Cuddy looks only mildly surprised – oh, this is not good.

Very not good.

So _not_ good.

“Refuse it.” he says.

“Why should I?”

“Why shouldn’t you?”

“There’s going to be questioning,” she doesn’t say about what – or rather whom – but on other hand she doesn’t have to. “And maybe firing, this way he can leave on his own.”

“No.”

“House, this is serious. He had an affair with a patient.”

“Who? Wilson? Ha!”

“House.”

“Despite all his skirt-lifting skills, Wilson is not an idiot. He’d never have an affair with a patient, he’s not _that_ stupid! He just heard the rumors, feared the scandal and panicked. That’s all. He’ll resign over nothing! He resigned over _me_!”

Cuddy shakes her head. “No, House,” she says with something like pity in her eyes. “It’s true.”

“Just rumors, Cuddy.” House says “You can’t believe rumors on things like that!”

”I know that! What do you take me for? There’s a witness. A patient saw them kissing.”

House barks out a laugh. “That’s what Jenny the nurse told me! Doesn’t mean it’s true!” he exclaims. “Have you got an idea on how many painkillers they give to the terminal patients? You know how easy it is to influence them?”

“House, there’s-“ she stops and looks at him, a little suspicious now.

Perfect.

“What are you saying exactly, House?”

“I started them.”

Stunned silence.

Cuddy stares at him.

And stares.

And stares.

Then she practically yells, “_What_!?”

“Those rumors. I started them.”

“What? House, I- I don’t- Why?”

“I was bored.”

She gapes at him. “I can’t believe it! This was just another stupid, childish prank for you and I was about to lose my Head of Oncology over it?! House, how could you-“ she stops and takes a deep breath “You know, House… Right now I’d fire you if I could, I’d fire you and not think twice about it.”

He lowers his head and watches as her high-heeled feet go back and forth in his limited vision of the floor.

She stops. “You’ve got to all the clinic hours I’ll give you for two months. No hiding, no giving them to Chase, Cameron, or Foreman.”

He nods, silently.

“You were about to cost your only friend his job. Again. You’re an asshole, House.” she says “You can go, now.”

House nods again and gets out.

  


  
*

Outside the door he meets Wilson, who glares at him.

“I take it Foreman couldn’t stop you.”

“Oh, no. He kept the door locked alright.”

“Cameron, then. You made those puppy dog eyes at her and she broke under the pressure.”

“Nope, she too was quite adamant.”

“Chase, then?”

“No. He was just doing his crossword.”

Wilson leaves it at that and House knows he’s doing it on purpose. He tries to resist, but in the end he caves. “What did you do, then? Broke down the door? _You_?” at least he’s managed to mask the question with some sarcasm.

“I called security, told them I was being kept hostage.”

House smiles, despite it all.

Wilson almost smiles, too.

“Why, Jimmy-“ he says “There might still be hope for you!”

“House, why-“

Just then Cuddy opens the door, glaring at House and greeting Wilson.

“Please, come in,” she says, before disappearing inside.

”What have you done?” Wilson whispers to him.

“What needed to be done,” he whispers back.

“What?”

“Just play along.”

He leaves.

  


  
*

  
The next person he has to talk to – as much as he hates it – is Jenny.

The grabbing and going into an empty exam room has become some kind of routine for them lately, so Jenny says nothing about it.

“You’d better stop those rumors.”

“Which ones? The one where you and Wilson-“

“Shut up!” he says and she does, startled. “I’m talking about the one about Wilson and his patient.”

“But-“

“It’s not true, okay?” he says, then tries to convey all of his evilness and meanness into his next words. “I started it, but it has to stop now, because Wilson’s gotten all teary-eyed over it and now wants to resign.”

She looks like she wants to say something, but he glares at her.

“You don’t want Wilson to resign, do you?” She shakes her head. “Good. Now, if by tomorrow it’s not all a very distant and vague memory I’ll make sure how good I’ve become at using my cane. And not in the good way, at least for you. Now go.”

She nods and makes for the exit.

“You know,” she says, because she just has to have the last word. “I take back what I said yesterday. You totally deserved that. What you don’t deserve is him being your friend.”

He makes faces at her back as she slams the door.

_You know nothing_, he wants to scream.

He doesn’t think Jenny likes him anymore, now.

  


  
*

House is sprawled on his couch, a beer in his hand, Vicodin a comforting presence – and how screwed up is _that_? – on the coffee table.

After talking to Jenny, he’s escaped home, but he knows that Wilson is going to come sooner or later. He hears the familiar sound of Wilson’s car coming to a stop, the door slamming, his front door opening and then, after a long moment, three knocks on his door.

“You still got the key, don’t you?”

He listens as the door opens and Wilson steps inside.

He closes the door, but he remains standing, hands in his pockets.

The silence lasts for a long time.

“You realize if they go deeper than this, your cover story is blown away?”

“No, it’s _you_ who’s blown away. And they won’t go deeper than this.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“First of all, an asshole doesn’t need an ulterior motive. Second of all, I never lie. Everyone knows this.”

“Except you did.”

“Which was a very clever thing for me to do.”

House goes back to looking at his wall and Wilson shakes his head.

In the end he sags beside him, on the couch.

His sleeves are already up to his elbows and he loosens his tie and takes it off, draping it on the back of the couch. Wilson leans back and – as House watches from the corner of his eye – snatches his beer and drinks.

“Hey.” he says, but it doesn’t come out as affronted as he’s intended.

He’s tired.

“Cuddy said you… ‘played that prank’ because you resented me for moving out. You realize that now she thinks you’re even more childish, right?”

After all this – all _that_ – that’s what Wilson’s got to say? House turns to stare at him, suddenly angry and no longer tired. “And you realize you could have lost your job over the cancer girl, right?” and now the words come out as cutting as he’s meant them.

Wilson blinks at his sudden outburst but then recovers and, placing the beer on the coffee table, turns completely towards him. “And so you took the decision to lie to Cuddy without asking me what I was thinking!” So he’s angry too.

“That’s the problem, Wilson! You _weren’t_ thinking! You almost threw your whole career to hell because of what? Some stupid _fling_?”

Wilson colors, “Grace wasn’t a stupid thing!”

“Maybe not, but you sure are stupid!” then House mock-quotes him “’I’ve only got two things that work for me: this job and this stupid, screwed-up friendship’.”

“You seem to be stuck on that-“

“Because that was the first time in more than ten years that you actually acknowledged that I was important for you! One of only two things! Do you think I value our friendship so little? Well, newsflash for you, Doctor Wilson, you’re the _only_ thing that works for me! Enough so, that when you do something really, _really_ stupid like this I don’t think twice about covering for you!”

After that they’re both kind of breathless.

House can feel Wilson watching him, frowning at him, trying to read him and he knows he’s fidgeting a little under the gaze, because Wilson is threading a territory which is best left unthreaded.

But when Wilson tries to say something, anger flares within him again. “And you know what? How come it’s so wrong of me to put your career in danger when it’s over some arrogant bastard with the big money, but when you do it over a stupid, pointless fling everything’s alright?”

“Okay. I get it now, House.”

_No, you don’t_, House wants to say and now he’s tired again, more than ever.

And his leg hurts. He spares a longing look at the Vicodin.

He’s always thought Wilson would somehow _understand_, that he’d _know_, but in this he’s apparently like everyone else.

“You- you really were worried about my job?”

_Idiot. Idiot._

The Vicodin seems so far away.

“House, I’m really sorry.” Wilson’s voice has become small and almost hopeless, as if he’s just admitted defeat.

It’s the tone House hates the most, because it means Wilson’s just decided he can’t fight anymore. He’s never liked a Wilson devoid of all fighting, because it’s a miserable Wilson.

“You know, Wilson, when I said they mattered to me, I really meant that.” he says, quietly.

“Yeah, I know.” Wilson replies, just as quietly, lightly touching his left thigh with the back of his hand.  
House nods. Maybe he really knows.

“And what if you’d lost your job and decided I wasn’t so important, after all? What about our ‘stupid, screwed-up friendship’? What about _me_? And when you said I was mad for not being able to tell you were lying-“

“Stop it, House. Just-“

“Part of it was true, but- _fucking shit_, Wilson! I thought after ten years you knew better than that!”

“I know that!” Wilson explodes “Give me some credit! I was mad at the time, okay? I was mad at me, at you, at the whole mess!”

“You were mad.”

“Yes.”

“So, am I forgiven now?”

“Am I?”

“Is that some kind of blackmail? You forgive me if I forgive you?”

There’s a twitching at the corner of Wilson’s mouth. “I have to put it terms that you can understand and accept.”

“Ah! You’re back! My very own manipulative, partner in crime Wilson!”

Wilson takes a swing from his beer, then says “Let’s get takeout.”

“Sleep here tonight.” House says, “You have to take me to the butcher’s in the morning.”

“Do I want to know?”

“Probably not.”

  


  
*

The day after at the Hospital the order of the universe is back to normal. Everyone likes Wilson again and everyone doesn’t like House.

Not even Jenny.

Except House couldn’t care less as he’s sharing the late morning sun and a cup of coffee with Wilson on _their_ balcony.

“And everything’s back to normal in the land of PPTH.” says House “You’re back to ‘kind Doctor Wilson’ I’m back to ‘that asshole’.”

“Your behavior is going to get you in trouble one of this days.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Not from me.”

“Good to know.”

They share the silence, not uncomfortable for once.

Then Wilson starts sneaking glances at him. It takes House a few moments to catch it, but- there it is! Wilson’s got that calculating look in his eyes, it appears rarely but it always manages to make House nervous. Now House’s started sneaking glances at him, so that it looks like sixth grade all over again.

“Wilson? You got something to say?”

“I was thinking…”

“Should I remind you that last time we got into this whole mess because you were thinking in the first place?”

Wilson smiles a little – suspiciously like a smirk – grin “I was thinking… Why would you spread rumors about me and you?”

“There’s a bet going around, haven’t you heard?”

“Yeah, but I know for a fact that you’ve been excluded two years ago, when you-“

“Okay, okay! Let’s not talk about that, like _never_.” House narrows his eyes, suspicious “And how do you know about the bet?”

“I may not be the gossip whore you are, but I’m not completely out of the loop.”

House grins, “So you must also know about what Jackson’s found-“

“Next time you ask me to take you to the butcher’s to get pig blood? I’m going to say no.”

“Come on! You could hear his screams from-“

“Are you in love with me?”

And just like that his heart stops, and what is intended to be a ‘what?’ turns to be a “Wagrl?”

“House?” Wilson asks, concerned as House starts to cough.

After a few seconds he’s able to breathe again, “It’s alright,” House says “I think I swallowed my tongue.”

He notices that Wilson is gently gripping his left shoulder.

“What the hell, Wilson?” he asks, after he’s more or less alright.

“You heard me the first time, House. I’m not going to repeat myself.”

“What’s up? You decided to move up to the doctors and decided to start seducing _me_?”

Wilson does a sharp intake of breath and pins him with his very, very serious eyes.

_Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Shitshitshit._

“It’s a simple question, House. Yes or no. I want the truth.”

“You should know there’s no such thing as simple truth.”

“House.”

“What is it to you? What do you get out of-“

“House, for God’s sake! Yes or no!”

“No.” he says quietly, looking at him straight in the eyes.

Wilson stares back at him, then breaks away, shaking his head in disbelief, a bitter smile on his mouth.

“I thought you didn’t lie.”

“I think we both know now that’s not true.” House says quietly.

“Why?”

House contemplates his shoes, he should get new ones. Black and red maybe. He turns back to Wilson.

“Only when it’s for your own good.”

“How come _you_ get to decide what’s good for _me_?”

“The fact that you still work here tends to prove my point,” House points out. “And look who’s talking, Mr. Reduce Your Vicodin.”

“So you decide what’s good for me and I decide what’s good for you.”

House frowns at him, not knowing where this is going. “I guess.”

“And what happens when the result is the opposite of one another?”

“What are you-“

Just like that, Wilson kisses him.

For a moment he’s stunned, but he recovers quickly and kisses him back, because hey – it’s _kissing_ and it’s _Wilson_.

For all the times that he’s imagined – it’s more like fantasized, but like his secret liking for The Ark, he’ll never admit to it – Wilson’s taste, he’s never come up with the logical one. Wilson tastes like Wilson, like sweet and bitter at the same time, because that’s Wilson: selfless and selfish, a kind bastard, a gentle asshole, because Wilson’s contrary is Wilson himself.

As he’s grabbing at his shoulders, holding for dear life and kissing like there’s no tomorrow it occurs to him that maybe – _maybe_ – Wilson’s right on this one.

When they part, breathless, Wilson keeps lightly kissing his lips and tightens his grip at his waist.

“So my cane and limp do turn you on!” is the first thing that comes out of House’s mouth.

Wilson looks disbelieving for a second, then rolls his eyes, “Yes, House, every time I hear the _tap-thump-tap-thump_ of your steps my insides go all a-quivering.”

“_A-quivering_? Are you turning all folk song on me? Or worse, _country_?”

“_You_ turn me on, House.”

He blinks, “Why are we still here? Let’s go have sex!”

Wilson makes a scandalized face, “House! I thought you didn’t put out on the first date!”

“Who told you that bullshit?”

“Actually, you did.”

“Did I? I plead momentary insanity. When have I ever _refused_ sex?”

“I promise you sex, just not right now, okay?” Wilson says lightly kissing his mouth again “We still have got a work to do.”

“Who cares? Everyone must’ve seen how you planted one on me!”

Wilson grins again and gestures to the balcony, “Uh uh,” he says shaking his head “I made sure we were on my part of the balcony. No peering eyes.”

“Wilson, you dog!” House smirk. “My mother warned me against the likes of you!”

“Of course she did.”

“I’ll have you know...”

Somebody knocks at Wilson’s door.

“Stay. They’ll go away.”

“I have to go. See you later.”

Wilson gives him his cane – fallen during The Kiss – and smiles at him.

House gives a little smile back.

He takes a deep breath and he’s about to go back to his office – and his new case – when he recognize the voice in Wilson’s office.

In his haste to get to the door Wilson has left the balcony door open, so House gets close, making sure no one inside can see him.

“I heard about what happened with House and-“ she starts.

“If it’s not work related you should step outside at once.” Wilson replies and House mentally cheers him.

“He told me why he did that and-”

“I really think you should go.”

Wilson is always so well-mannered, sometimes it’s too much. He should step outside on the balcony and make out with him, damn it!

“You know- you’re his friend, but he’s an asshole.”

He can’t see very well inside, but he can see as she moves some steps towards Wilson.

“He shouldn’t treat you like that.”

And she should renew her lines.

Just as House is about to burst inside and save the day, Wilson moves towards her and stops right in front of her, a few centimeters apart. They’re so close they could be kissing and House’d bristling with jealousy – really, not even three minutes and he’s already cheated on him, must be a record – if not for the fact that right now gentle, well-mannered Wilson is kind of menacing.

“You know nothing.” he hisses, so quietly he almost misses it.

House can feel a stupid smile spreading over his lips, but he couldn’t care less, because they know nothing, but Wilson _does_.


End file.
